


The Way You Grab Me

by Nevcolleil



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Dubious Consent, I Can't Believe I Wrote 6k+ Words Of Pure Porn, I Feel Like He Should Emcee This Fic, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Where He Says 'This Is An On Fire Garbage Can', You Know That John Mulaney Bit, of a sort, trust me please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Under the circumstances, something like ‘to capture you’ would be a really, really dumb thing for Mac to say.“I’m from the Phoenix Foundation,” he hears coming out of his own mouth. “I was sent to bring you in.”"Were you now?" Dalton asks easily, and he actually laughs. "And just how were you planning on managing that, Prettyboy?""By any means necessary."





	The Way You Grab Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly just trying to purge a few random thoughts rattling around in my brain, distracting me from my other fics, when I decided to write this. The primary thought came from the Season 2 episode "Wind + Water", and a certain scene I found quite... compelling. 6,367 words later, I can't decide whether I'm impressed with myself or mortified.
> 
> Warnings: I mean the rating on this with every iota of my being. Heed as necessary. 
> 
> If you are concerned with the 'Dubious Consent' tag, see the notes at the end for a full explanation. THE END NOTES ARE SPOILERY, but they will tell you exactly what you can expect from the fic in terms of consent, D/s content, and the nature of that porn I mentioned.
> 
> The title comes from "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke - " _The way you grab me, must wanna get nasty..._ " Because when you've written almost 7,000 words of blatant pwp, naming it with anything else just feels like putting pigtails on a call girl :p

Jack Dalton makes it easy to forget just how dangerous the man can be.

He has a quick sense of a humor and a quicker smile. He’s got a handsome face - even before the quirk of his lips lights it up in amusement.

His eyes are pretty, too. Woozy from having just been gassed, Mac said that out loud once - Riley’s never let him forget it. “-pretty brown eyes”, Mac said, before remarking upon how _soft_ they look when Dalton isn’t actively preparing to harm someone. Not like a sniper’s sharp, cold eyes at all.

Mac can’t see Dalton’s eyes at the moment - but he’s not betting on them looking “soft” now.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mac curses, involuntarily, as his knees hit the ground. The carpeting beneath them is thick - Mac barely feels the impact - but the fact that Dalton’s gotten Mac _on his knees_ , one hand fisted in Mac’s hair, the other still gripping Mac’s hip in the position it had been when he took Mac to the floor, is reason enough for expletives.

Dalton tugs, sharp enough that Mac has to arch back, scrabble at the floor behind him for some sort of purchase with his hands, so that he’s suspended from Dalton’s grip. Still, moisture pricks the corners of Mac’s eyes at the sting to his scalp.

“Now, now,” Dalton says almost sweetly, in that southern drawl of his, “what’s a mouth that pretty doing spitting out such a dirty word, huh?”

Mac’s shirt must have ridden up at some point in their struggle, so that the hand on his hip is brushing skin - the smooth leather of Dalton’s dark gloves surprisingly warm.

It’s a stupid thing to notice. It’s even stupider that whatever the touch makes Mac feel, Dalton’s words - his voice - make the feeling spike, like a blunt lie on a polygraph, only Mac’s pretty sure that this is the truth he’s been wrestling with since the moment he first laid eyes on Jack Dalton.

Mac’s attracted to the man. The danger of it - _in_ Jack - does nothing to stop him.

Quite the opposite...

“How about this? Instead of giving me suggestions about what I ought to do with you, Pretty Boy,” Dalton is saying, “why don’t you start explaining why you’re here and who sent you?”

Dalton is in full tac, while Mac’s just in his street clothes. And Dalton took Mac down so easy that it should be legitimately _frightening_. Mac may not have much on Dalton in the way of muscle or bulk, but Mac’s fit and he’s trained. He’s a little over a decade younger than Dalton, and yet with just a few moves, Dalton completely overwhelmed him. Now he’s controlling Mac’s movements so deftly; his grip is so unforgiving, Mac squirms to relieve the pressure on his scalp and on his back.

Under the circumstances, something like ‘to capture you’ would be a really, really dumb thing for Mac to say. 

But all he can think about is that Dalton’s just casually joked about _fucking_ him, after calling him “pretty” not once but twice in the span of so many minutes. And Mac _is_ frightened - just obviously not frightened enough in the _bad_ way, because Mac feels much more exhilarated than he knows he should; much less fearful than makes sense.

“I’m from the Phoenix Foundation,” Mac hears coming out of his own mouth. “I was sent to bring you in.”

“Were you now?” Dalton says easily, and he actually laughs, the sound low but light, and fitting for a man like Dalton, who is practically a walking tangle of contradictions.

Handsome but deadly. Quick to smile _and_ quick to turn to violence. His hands on Mac are ungiving, yes, but not needlessly cruel. When he speaks to Mac, his tone is sugary sweet, but somehow it doesn’t come off as mocking - just teasing. Playful. 

(Although, seeing as the man takes selfies of himself with his targets, maybe his idea of “play” should make Mac feel warier than it does.)

Dalton leans forward so that he’s pressed up against Mac’s back and says, directly against Mac’s ear: “And just how were you planning to manage that?” His breath is hot on Mac’s skin.

“B-by any means necessary,” Mac stutters at the direct contact of their bodies.

It doesn’t even occur to him what Dalton might do with those words until he laughs again. “ _Any_ means, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“Including this one?”

And this is when Mac’s mission goes from sideways to surreal.

Dalton releases Mac’s hair and uses both hands to grip Mac’s hips, lifting and pulling Mac backwards so that he’s suddenly sitting astride Dalton’s thighs. 

Mac’s reaction is only half choice, half instinct - a reflex at what Mac’s body interprets as an escallation by his attacker. His legs are still bent so that he can’t fight back with them - can’t use his feet to get some kind of leverage and try to buck off the man holding onto him. But Mac’s elbows serve him well enough. Dalton’s next breath punches out of him with an oomph as Mac twists and gets one good blow in to Dalton’s side.

Mac freezes, for a split second, at the sound, and that’s all it takes for Dalton to regain the upperhand.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, babe,” Dalton _growls_ , and Mac feels his stomach flip.

Dalton reaches around him, grabs Mac’s shirt by either side of its buttons, and _rips_ it open, buttons pinging around them like falling confetti.

“Wait-” Mac tries to protest, but with one firm hand between Mac’s shoulderblades, Dalton has Mac folded forwards before he can finish a word.

Two movements more, and Dalton has Mac’s arms folded behind his back, tightly bound by Mac’s own shirt.

He pulls Mac upwards again by his shoulders, then wraps one large hand around the front of Mac’s throat - not squeezing, not yet, but implying with just its presence how things will go for Mac if he tries lashing out, or even protesting, again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mac says all the same, feeling his heart right there, beneath the ominous press of Dalton’s palm. “I won’t-”

“What? Try fighting your way out of this again?” Dalton interrupts. “Yeah, excuse me if I don’t believe _that_.”

It’s on the tip of Mac’s tongue to press his luck and say that no, he wouldn’t, but Dalton’s other hand starts to slide up from his hip, over the now bare stretch of Mac’s abdomen, and Mac is distracted. Beneath the lingering touch of Dalton’s glove, Mac’s stomach swoops and contracts in little ripples of response.

“What- What are you...”

And then Mac notices- As he squirms beneath Dalton’s hands - and, consequently, on top of Dalton’s lap - he feels the likely reason Dalton had pulled him into this position in the first place.

Dalton is hard. Mac can feel him through their clothes. He can’t control his own gasp at the realization - at the feel of it. And at the accompanying realization that, now that’s draped over Dalton’s lap like this, Mac’s own hardness can’t escape Dalton’s notice for long, if he hasn’t noticed it already. 

(Mac’s cock certainly _feels_ noticeable - struggling against the fly of Mac’s jeans for attention. But Mac doesn’t dare glance down to see if it looks as insistent as it feels.)

Mac stops moving, and Dalton immediately reaches up and pinches one of Mac’s nipples in retaliation, causing Mac to gasp again.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the squirming. That I got no problem with,” Dalton is saying meanwhile. “In fact, you rub up on that all you like, sweet thing. Go ahead and get real familiar with that cock. It’s gonna be real familiar with you by the time I’m done.”

If the bulge at the front of Mac’s pants doesn’t tell Dalton everything he needs to know about what Mac thinks about this plan - the little, bitten-off groan Mac fails to swallow back undoubtedly does.

“You can’t be serious,” he feels obligated to say. To at least put up a token resistance.

 _Token_. Mac shakes his head and _tries_ to remind himself that this is supposed to be the bad guy Mac is thinking of just lying back and letting have his way with him.

“I’m serious, alright,” Dalton says, rolling his hips as if to prove it.

This time, Mac does manage to hold back his groan - not that it helps. Because Dalton just pinches his other nipple then, and the sound that forces itself past Mac’s lips is probably much more telling than anything else.

“You want so badly to ‘bring me in’ you risked coming in here unarmed and alone to do it, maybe you deserve the win, kid,” Dalton says with another maddening roll of his hips. Every time his cock presses harder against Mac’s ass, there’s no way Mac can avoid thinking about what it would feel like pressing _inside_ of it. “But I’m gonna make you work for it. And if you work _real hard_... you make me feel real good? Maybe I’ll even go quietly.”

“I can’t just-”

“From where I’m sitting,” Dalton argues, “there’s not a whole hell of a lot you _can_ do, darlin’.”

He’s infuriating. Just as infuriating as it is ridiculous to think that he might actually do what he says and hand himself over to Mac after... Well. _After_. If Mac only agrees not to put up a fight while Dalton does what he’d like.

Surreal? This scenario is downright impossible, but the point of Mac fighting it is rather moot, Mac supposes. He tries to tug free of the knots Dalton’s bound his arms in, and all he accomplishes is to draw a deep moan out of the other’s man chest - a sound Mac has to bite his own lip not to echo - when his efforts provide more friction between himself and Dalton’s crotch than either of their movements have before.

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” Dalton purrs from beside Mac’s ear, stroking his roaming hand up and down Mac’s torso like he’s rewarding Mac by petting him. “Gimme a little preview of what you and that ass can do for Jack.”

Mac’s face burns. Hell, he’s probably pink all the way down to his chest - Mac has a tendency to blush with more than just his face when he’s really embarrassed, or really turned on, and he’s definitely _both_ of those things, knowing that Dalton can see how Mac is feeling, painted right there across his skin.

“Keep it up, baby,” Dalton says.

“Absolutely not,” Mac bothers telling him just the same.

Easy to underestimate, Mac is reminded, despite Dalton’s ‘aw shucks’ brand of dirty talk, and this pretense that he and Mac are negotiating some sort of arrangement. 

Mac’s reminded, because he’s barely finished speaking when the hand on his throat tightens - just a little. Just enough that Mac _feels_ it, and his refusal cuts off abruptly.

“No?” Dalton says, with a sudden sharp edge cutting through the syrupy sweetness of his tone. “Maybe you’d rather we jump right to the good stuff then, huh?”

There’s no smooth roll of his hips against Mac this time. He bucks up in a raunchy imitation of fucking, and he holds Mac tight against him, where Mac is forced to feel the strength behind his thrust, as he does.

He holds Mac with the hand that’s dropped straight to Mac’s crotch... and cupped the aching hardness there like it’s his for the taking.

“Son of a-” Mac chokes out, as both Dalton’s hands _squeeze_. “Fuck... _oh, fuck_...”

“Guess I should’ve known... Mouth like that. Of course you’d want it fast and hard.”

The bastard even puts his mouth on Mack’s skin as he speaks. Nips at the shell of Mac’s ear and bites at the sweaty skin at the nape of Mac’s neck - Mac’s most hair-trigger hotspot.

“Please...” Sounds slip out of Mac’s mouth without his permission at all. “ _Oh_. I- Dalton... _Please_ -”

“You want something different now,” Dalton just tells him, “then I want you to _admit_ that you want it, nice and clear, before I even think about it.”

Honestly? With that hand on his cock... at this point, Mac could care less about any game Jack Dalton might be playing with him. He doesn’t care that it was his own damned plan that had led him to this moment, and the plan had been to tough it out for as long as he could if Dalton got the best of him.

“I don’t-” he starts to say.

Dalton’s teeth close over a tendon at the side of Mac’s neck, and Mac cries out in something entirely different than the minimal pain that the bite brings him.

“You _don’t_ ,” Dalton repeats, misunderstanding what Mac means. “You don’t want this?” he asks, fitting his fingers more exactly to the the shape of Mac’s cock through the front of his jeans, and stroking him firmly. 

“ _Oh god_...”

It’s been so, _so_ long since Mac’s felt even his own hand on himself like this - since he’s needed the touch even half so badly.

“I think you oughtta rethink that thought, Prettyboy,” Dalton says, releasing Mac’s throat to reach around Mac’s waist with both hands now and unbutton and unzip Mac’s jeans with a flourish.

“J-Dalton-”

“You know what to say,” Dalton whispers into his ear, with a gentle brush of lips there, tantalizingly at odds with the way he’s manhandling Mac otherwise.

When Mac just breathes in an uneven breath - then breathes it back out - Dalton pulls Mac’s cock out roughly, just like that, no further warning. He strokes Mac with _purpose_. 

Mac moans loudly. He can’t not. The no-nonsense way Dalton’s touching him, almost - but _not quite_ too rough... The leather-

“Say it, Pretty,” Dalton says again.

“I-” With his other hand, Dalton starts tugging Mac’s jeans and shorts down his hips, down his thighs... Exposing Mac now from neck to knees. “I want-”

When Dalton’s other hand starts kneading Mac’s balls, that’s all that Mac can take.

It takes one leisurely roll of Mac’s flesh in Dalton’s hand, coupled with another merciless stroke of Mac’s cock with the other, and Dalton’s mouth worrying that spot at the back of Mac’s neck, and the words just punch out of him.

“ _I want itfuck me_ , alright?” Mac basically pants. In just a short while of goading touches, Dalton has already brought Mac worryingly close to feeling that tug at the very pit of his gut that means he’s not far from orgasm - and a pretty violent orgasm at that.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dalton all but growls again, the dark mirror to the sweet whisper he breathed into Mac’s ear before.

The touches abruptly stop, and Dalton swiftly folds Mac in half like he had when he bound Mac’s hands - one strong arm wrapped around Mac’s torso like a steel band the only thing holding Mac back from smashing his face into the floor with the inertia of the quick movement.

Dalton flips him, and then he’s lying there, mostly naked on the floor, and losing the rest of his clothing in efficient tugs until Dalton has stripped everything away. 

He stares straight at Mac as he unbuttons and unzips himself. Not even at Mac’s nakedness - at _Mac_ \- with this look of such utter concentration on his face... Like he’s imagining everything he wants to do to Mac before he does it.

Mac’s breathing like the air is cement. Sex adrenaline and that fight-or-flight adrenaline that comes in a crisis, in the moment when it feels like you’ve _just_ lost all control of the outcome, is an explosive combination, and it catylizes at each and every one of Mac’s nerve endings.

Mac himself can’t look away from Dalton’s cock once it appears, flushed and full and glistening at the tip, standing tall against the dark line of Dalton’s happy trail.

Neither of them says a word as Dalton drops his pants and shorts to his knees before reaching down toward Mac’s feet, wrapping his gloved hands around Mac’s bare ankles and spreading Mac’s legs so that he can kneel between them. 

In a series of efficient movements, Dalton has Mac back up on his knees, this time facing Dalton and straddling Dalton’s thighs from the front.

What he’s intending is perfectly obvious.

“I can’t-” Mac starts to protest, then sees the warning look in Dalton’s dark eyes and rephrases. “With my hands tied, I don’t have the leverage to- to do it like this.”

“Oh, you’ll figure something out,” Dalton simply says. “Don’t worry. I’ll even get you started.”

He guides Mac to rise up with a hand at Mac’s throat, grabbing his own cock with his other hand with a quiet little grunt, and angling it so can rub the tip over Mac’s hole, using his other hand to spread Mac open.

It’s part impatience, part shock - the knee-weakening effect of the livewire sensation that zaps through Mac at the feel of Dalton’s cock teasing him - that causes Mac to just _drop_ , taking almost half of Dalton’s length inside in one rough slide; saved only from taking it all by the hand at Mac’s throat, which tenses reflexively when Mac’s body clenches around Dalton’s cock, and Mac shouts wordlessly. The other man becomes the one yelling out “ _Fuck_!”

Mac sputters through a loud, broken moan. The sudden penetration burns - of course it burns. He went too fast, but it burns in the best way, and Mac squirms on Dalton’s cock less to get away from the negligible pain than to revel in it.

“Motherfucker... holy shit...” Dalton keeps cussing, frozen beneath Mac for a long moment. His hand on Mac’s neck drops quickly to flatten against Mac’s chest, although the hand on Mac’s ass is clenched tight with the effort to not move.

It’s an instinctual kindness, but it almost feels cruel to Mac in his hunger. 

In fact, Mac’s so lost in the sensation of having Dalton _almost_ fully seated inside of him, of wanting more, that Dalton realizes almost before Mac does that the little whimper-like sounds Mac makes as he shifts his weight back and forth as much as he can are words.

“Wh-what’s that, sugar?” Dalton asks, his voice as unlevel as Mac’s heard it since they started this.

“Do it... just do it,” Mac is muttering. “Please. I can’t- Please just-”

To Dalton’s credit - or maybe just as evidence of his own neediness - Dalton doesn’t make Mac ask again.

Both of Dalton’s hands go to Mac’s ass to hold Mac steady, even as Mac sways a little against Dalton. Then Dalton thrusts up into him hard enough that Mac bounces on his lap, taking a little more of Dalton’s cock with the thrust, and hen a little more just coming down from it.

Mac’s sharp cries and Dalton’s grunts and groans keep a steady pace with Dalton’s progress opening Mac up on his cock, until Mac is taking him in completely with every thrust.

“There you go, baby...” Dalton pants by Mac’s ear, their faces all but pressed together as Mac hunches into the movement of their bodies. “You got it... Come on,” Dalton says until Mac can do anything else. “Come on, sweetheart. Do it with me.”

Mac does - rocking his hips a little, at first, on every down-thrust. 

“That’s it,” Dalton praises him. “That’s what I want. Real good, remember. Be real good for me...”

The words - the reminder - send a little jolt along Mac’s spine and he moans, rocking faster. Then faster.

Eventually, Mac’s the one bouncing himself on top of Dalton, not that he has to do the work for long. After an eternity - and no time at all - Dalton begins to curse again, then to shake. 

Dalton comes with a sound like Mac’s hurt him and grabs Mac by both hips, hard. Limiting Mac yet again to stuttering rolls and grinds of his hips. He turns his sweaty brow into the curve of Mac’s neck, hot breaths hitting the equally damp skin there in little, uneven puffs. 

He’s shaking so hard now, Mac can’t even tell how much of _his_ shakiness is his own and how much is Dalton, coming apart against and _inside_ of him.

“P-please...,” leaves Mac’s lips in a whimper on every exhale, until Mac’s not sure himself if he’s asking to follow Dalton into release, or just mimicking the state of functionality where he _could_ consciously decide on wanting something and actually manage to ask for it. “Jack...”

Mac was right - being with Jack this way is just _ridiculously_ hot. Mac’s painfully close to what promises to be an absolutely devastating orgasm in what’s been quite a while. Back-to-back missions with almost no downtime in-between, not even the opportunity for fleeting intimacies along the way...

Mac can’t think. He can only squirm on Jack’s lap, flex his body in the most likely way to get him the relief he needs.

But Dalton comes back on-line before Mac can find it, head as firmly in the game as it has been since Mac started this.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, in a voice so sexed-out and rough that the sound of it alone turns Mac’s whimpers into near sobs.

Well. Not actually alone. Because as he speaks, Dalton grabs Mac by the hips and lifts him, shifts, slipping his slowly softening cock out of Mac and Mac over until he’s straddling Dalton’s right thigh.

“NO. What-”

“ _You’re_ the one tryin’ to bring _me_ in, remember, Blondie?” Dalton drawls in Mac’s ear. “I told you I’d make you work for it. That means the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh. Right now. Before I change my mind about lettin’ you.”

“ _Holy shit, Jack_ -” Mac cries out sharply, voice broken and high, barely recognizable.

He’s so far gone, Jack didn’t even have to tell him to use his stuttering hips and the hard press of Jack’s thigh against his desperate cock to try and come. But at Jack’s words, Mac’s whole body upshifts a gear. His hips snap harder, his cock drags against the firm flesh and soft hair of Jack’s thigh. Jack wraps his arms around Mac and-

Fuck. Mac had almost forgotten that Jack’s still almost completely dressed. The ribbing of his tac uniform and the leather of his gloves on Mac’s naked skin... Every time Mac rocks back his ass brushes against Jack’s pants, the cold metal of Jack’s belt buckle.

Just as Mac feels himself tense up, prepare to spasm, Jack’s left arm tightens around Mac’s waist like an iron band. His right moves, and with his fist in Mac’s hair again, he’s got Mac arched back the way he was earlier, only this time straddling Jack’s hips in a way that he can’t not see Jack’s face from his position.

And Jack can’t not see his.

The look on Jack’s face is wild. Fierce. His hands are almost too hard on Mac, as soft and open as Mac feels in this split-second before he comes, which is just what Mac wants. To feel this strength in the other man, this hint of danger, unleashed upon him when he’s least able to match it, knowing all that the other man could do with it. And all that he will.

“Finish it right now, Angus,” Jack _commands_ , in his most no-nonsense tone of voice, and Mac chokes out a garbled shout of Jack’s name and does.

He does, _on and on_.

Jack scoops Mac up in his arms in the meantime and eases him down onto the floor, onto the towels they laid down before they started their scene. (Neither of them wanted to be the one to scrub lube and come out of the carpet when they’re finished.) He uses the washcloth waiting nearby to clean them both well enough so that they can rest comfortably, then rolls them so that they’re still chest-to-chest but on their sides, Mac tucked up against him in an embrace. Mac is only vaguely aware of Jack’s movements as he gently untangles Mac’s arms from the torn shirt binding them and tosses it aside.

Jack pressing light kisses to the top of his head is the first thing Mac feels when he starts really coming back to himself.

There’s only one thing he can say about any of it.

“Jack... I think that was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Jack chuckles. In the fog of afterglow, Mac wonders how he might build a way to always feel it like this when Jack laughs so happily.

“I don’t know about that,” Jack says. “You’ve got an awful lot of those for us to choose between, if we’re gonna give one a title. But I won’t argue top ten.”

When Jack agreed to roleplay with Mac like this, he wouldn’t agree not to say ‘I told you so’ if either or both of them ended up not liking it. So Mac feels no shame smugly grinning and saying, “Didn’t I tell you it would be hot?”

Luckily, Jack is not a sore loser.

Mac feels Jack’s lips stretch into a grin of Jack’s own where his mouth is still pressed to Mac’s head in his last kiss.

“Yeah, you did.”

But of course Jack can’t just leave it at that. He pulls back so that he can look Mac in the face. 

Jack is the one who usually gets misty-eyed at... a lot, actually, sex included. But it’s not like Mac’s made of _stone_. He feels his own face go slack as he swallows down the small knot of emotion his throat tries to twist itself into at the searching look in Jack’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jack says, with the sort of earnestness that drove Mac crazy for his tough-guy, Delta Special Forces-brand overwatch in the first place. “Don’t mean what I said doesn’t still stand. Anyone ever treated you like that for real? I’d kill 'em. That ain’t an exaggeration. And I’d find a way to kick my own ass for letting it happen.”

“I know, Jack,” Mac assures him. He found it hard, before, to fully explain where the fantasy they’ve just play-acted comes from. It’s not like Mac would ever want a scenario like that to become real. He’s never found the actual experience of being overpowered by an adversary the least bit sexy. Mac’s not convinced that he _could_ , with anyone other than Jack - even just as part of a roleplay. 

Mac knows that Jack doesn’t yet believe him when he says that Jack’s it for him. Because Mac’s so much younger than Jack, or because Jack’s just so... Jack, he can’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s all that Mac wants, for good. Not as a placeholder for someone else. Not “just until” anything. Endgame, all the way.

Still, Mac thinks he better understands now why he sometimes wants this thing that he sometimes wants - and when he’s recovered a bit more of his breath, he tries to explain it to Jack in terms that Jack can accept.

“You put your life in my hands every day, man,” Mac says plainly. “Two or three _times_ a day. A dozen, even.”

Jack immediately gets that look on his face, like he always does when Mac mentions the unflinching trust Jack puts in him. Like he’s embarrassed by Mac’s gratitude, or incredulous at Mac’s awe that anyone could trust Mac quite as much and as often as Jack does. 

But all Jack says is, “You do the same thing for me, babe.”

He says it almost like he’s expecting Mac to argue, but Mac considers it progress. 

Mac’s figured out, over time, that Jack needs to hear - repeatedly and in great detail - just how badly Mac needs him, to understand even part of why Mac wants him. Even though he’s been there for every Hail Mary rescue he’s ever had to pull to save Mac’s life, Jack would just refute the math if Mac brought up how easily the times Jack has saved Mac balance out the times Mac has saved them or the mission.

“Exactly,” Mac simply agrees. “And I don’t know... I guess it just feels good to be able to do that here too. Give it all up, you know? Control. Safety... when it’s just us, just for fun, and no one’s going to get hurt because of it.” No one except Mac, and only in the ways that Mac wants to be hurt a little, by Jack. Jack’s hands pulling Mac’s hair or grabbing Mac tight enough to bruise... Mac sinking down onto Jack’s cock before Jack’s had the chance to loosen Mac back up again, as he had while he and Mac discussed how their game might go. Mac would have let Jack hurt him a little bit more, even, if Jack would have agreed to it.

As soon as he sees Jack’s expression even back out, Mac busies himself with getting Jack’s hands in his and taking Jack gloves off while he continues. “Knowing I don’t need to control what happens to me, even when it hurts a little... even when it’s acually a little scary - because you’ve _got_ me, under any circumstances... Jack, that’s just- It’s really hot, I guess, because it’s the same thing I get to do in the field all the time. Trust you. Trust what you do out there. Except like this I get to enjoy it without-”

“Anyone almost getting shot or blown up or something?” Jack suggests.

Mac recaptures his grin and dares look back at Jack again. “Right,” he says.

Hands free of the gloves Mac’s pulled off and tossed aside, Jack presses one to Mac’s cheek. “Okay, so I can see what you mean when it comes to, you know. Submitting to me, or whatever,” Jack says somewhat awkwardly.

Likely he wouldn’t look as shy about using the word ‘submit’ for what Mac’s part in their roleplay had just been if he knew what hearing him say it does to Mac’s gut.

“It was fun having you do that for me,” Jack admits, with a bit more twinkle in his eye. “Even if you were kind of a punk about it.”

“Yeah, you seemed to like it,” Mac says. He’s actually really surprised by how in-character Jack stayed throughout the entire scene. _Enthusiastically_ in-character. Even when Mac, yes, was “kind of a punk about it.”

Mac unfastens Jack’s tac jacket from the side, just far enough to slip his hand inside and over the part of Jack’s ribs that met with Mac’s elbow when Mac unthinkingly reacted at one point.

Jack’s smiling at him, but Mac doesn’t miss the careful shape of his smile - the tension in Jack’s eyes as he says, “I gotta say though... It felt just as weird as I thought it would, putting hands on you like that.”

“Not a _bad_ weird,” Jack clarifies, when he sees the looks of concern that must come to Mac’s face, “necessarily... Just. _Weird_ , dude. You know, rough sex is one thing. You _know_ I’m down with that. But-”

But the other stuff, Mac gets that Jack is trying to say. Jack’s pulled Mac’s hair in bed before, held him down and taken him hard and quick. But pushing Mac around, rather than asking Mac to move into a position? Putting a hand to Mac’s throat... _Ripping his clothes off-_ (Which Mac loved, truth be told, so he won’t mention it; But it was off-script - and they’re going to have to consider things like that the next time they do this, so Mac doesn’t lose a shirt that he really likes in the heat of the moment.)

“But... did it feel too weird to not want to do it again?” Mac asks carefully, not allowing himself to sound disappointed. There’s nothing to be disappointed by. If Jack didn’t like that part of playing the way they just have, then the last thing Mac wants is to do it again, however much he’d enjoyed it.

Except- The tension in Jack’s eyes only intensifies at Mac’s question, and something else slips into his gaze familiar enough that Mac identifies it right away.

“Oh, I want it,” Jack admits. “Believe me.” The way he says it, the way his eyes drop down Mac’s lax and still naked body - with an echo of the fierce look in them that they’d had before - ensures that Mac does.

But Jack’s still wearing that sad smile. “What does it say about me, you think? That I liked _choking_ you so much? And tossing you around... Even just for fun, you know?”

Mac knows exactly where this is going, and realizes he probably should have seen it coming from the beginning. 

“Jack, I hear what you’re saying,” Mac tells him. “Full disclosure... it’s kind of getting me going again hearing you say it,” Mac adds, just to see the surprise and the heat that enters Jack’s gaze when he does. (And because it’s true.) “But I hear you. Honestly, man, I don’t see the difference between you enjoying doing that to me and me liking it when you do it. Yeah, I have to trust you not to really hurt me... but you have to trust me too, right? To know when something is too much and to tell you when it is?”

“Yeah, I guess-” Jack immediately starts to protest. 

But that tension that was lining his eyes is fading... so Mac gets to what he’s pretty sure is the real worry Jack’s been trying to talk around since they started discussing this.

“You _can_ trust me to do that, Jack,” Mac says. “If _anything_ gets to be too much for me, I’ll tell you.. and we’ll adjust. Nothing you do, or don’t do, is going to make me just- Just tap out and leave.”

It’s a truth about more than just sex - the way that Jack’s concern, Mac knows, is about more than what Mac will and won’t let him get away with in the bedroom. What he fears Mac might only go along with for his sake - or offer just because he’s figured out that Jack wants it.

Mac at least recognizes the irony in it. The kid with abandonment issues trying to reassure his lover that he won’t freak Mac out and get abandoned. 

Mac’s own issues maybe contribute a little bit to how... free Mac feels, when Jack is seemingly taking what he wants from Mac, not kindly giving Mac what he’s asked for (which, hypothetically, Jack _could_ get tired of doing.) 

But that’s an unnecessarily deep post-coital talk for another time, Mac decides, and if Jack doesn’t think the same, he doesn’t call Mac out on it.

Jack’s smile slowly shapeshifts into a real thing, and when he presses it to Mac’s, Mac kisses him back gratefully.

“You know, you argue awful hard for sex you about broke my ribs for trying to give you,” Jack says as soon as they part again for air.

Mac groans in the not-sex-related way, although he’s still smiling. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“I’m just saying,” Jack teases, with a faux-serious expression, wearing his own smile in the tone of his voice. “You went real method on me there for a minute, Mac. I shudder to think what kind of damage you could have done to an old man like me if I hadn’t had you on your knees at the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Mac says blandly. ‘Old man, my ass,’ Mac’s said before when Jack’s made that crack. Since they became lovers, Jack’s preferred response has become to wink and say, ‘Thanks for the introduction, but me and that ass are quite happily acquainted.’ 

“Guess next time you’ll just have to restrain me better sooner,” Mac says this time - kind of, maybe, fishing just a little for where they’ve actually ended up on the topic of whether or not the rougher “stuff” was too weird for Jack after all.

“I plan to,” Jack says easily, and there is definitely still some heat in his gaze as he says it. A new little spark, even. “Don’t you worry about that.” And he sends another look up and down Mac’s body that makes it clear to Mac that Jack does indeed have plans for him.

Plans that apparently include rolling on top of Mac suddenly, Jack still in his disheveled tac suit, the both of them a little sticky despite Jack’s earlier efforts.

“Babe,” Mac laughs, “what are you-”

Jack kisses him quiet. The one type of interruption when he’s trying to speak that Mac actually enjoys.

“I _plan_ to do all sorts of kinky things to you the next time we give Jack Dalton, Deadly Assassin and International Man of Mystery another run,” Jack smacks Mac once more on the lips, then draws back and says, against Mac’s widening grin.

“That’s what we’re calling him, huh?” Mac asks.

“You know it,” Jack says immediately. “But in the meantime, the _real_ Jack Dalton hasn’t made slow, sweet love to his partner since that thing in Liberia started this hellmonth, and I think we owe _that_ Jack a little playtime. What do you think?”

Mac doesn’t think that either of them is going to be ready to go again for _at least_ another thirty minutes - not that Jack’s ever let their refractory periods  
determine whether they do or do not have _some_ kind of sex.

And want surges up Mac’s spine every bit as fiercely as it had when he and Jack were about to play an entirely different kind of game.

Jack’s won each and every round of ‘Jack Versus Biology: Errogenous Zone Explorer’s Edition’ - that they’ve ever played.

“I think maybe that Best Idea title ought to belong to you,” Mac says, as much breathless with renewed anticipation as with how thoroughly Jack has already fucked him out once.

“Top ten, sweetie.”

By the time they’re both too tired and sated to _move_ , Mac gets Jack to at least upgrade his vote to top five.

**Author's Note:**

> I've marked this 'Dubious Consent' because the first part reads like an AU - Jack is a dangerous criminal Mac has tracked down, and he's gotten the upperhand on Mac. Mac struggles to reconcile his physical reactions and genuine attraction to Jack with his knowledge of who Jack is. In the end, it turns out to be a roleplaying game Mac and Jack have decided to play, as a loving couple in a long-term established relationship. Tender aftercare is included, as is an at-length discussion of why they enjoy the rough roleplay. At no point does one seriously hurt or demean the other. The dirty talk is primarily taunting and coersive; the "rough" nature of the sex they have does not involve any actual pain play and only brief instances of mild breathplay.


End file.
